


Beltane's Fires

by DistractedDream



Series: YGO Fair Folk AU [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Blindshipping, Deathshipping, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, TKB is Gadai, Tendershipping, Thiefshipping, Yami Marik/Mariku also gets a name, another one, fair folk au, hints of heartshipping, implied bakushipping, implied geminishipping, implied gemshipping, rogueshipping, rustshipping, stockholmshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractedDream/pseuds/DistractedDream
Summary: "What does it matter? We're here now and I won't waste my time being bitter about it. Besides." Gadai stole the bottle back the moment it left Bakura's lips, swirling into the firelight, his cloak flaring out behind him. "There's opportunities here. It is Beltane, after all." With a knowing wink, Gadai melted into the dancers.Bakura, Ryou, and Gadai attend a gathering of the long-lived races hosted by Atem. Two beings from the Southern lands change everything for them.





	1. The Story

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate SerenityXStar for being my long-suffering beta so much. She is wonderful and I hope all writers can have a beta like her. Also major thanks this time goes to Rogue_Wind of Twitter for helping me address a significant plot hole.
> 
> If you didn't get to read SitaBethel's "Siuil A Run", you missed a wonderful story. It wedged itself into my brain as inspiration and this is the result.
> 
> Your warning this time is that Bakura and Ryou are brothers and there is implied incest/a heated kiss. Click away if that's a dealbreaker.
> 
> Per the tags, Gadai is TKB. Yami Marik gets his name during the story. You'll have to read to find out!
> 
> I can be found on Twitter @DistracteDream and on Tumblr @DistractedDream. Please leave kudos or comments if you liked this! I appreciate every single one.

"I hate these things." Bakura leaned against an oak tree, arms crossed over his chest, glowering. Decked in shades of navy and black, the Unseelie fae prince would have blended into the shadows if not for the ethereal glow of his pale skin and the braided rope of white hair over his shoulder. Crimson eyes tracked a form moving around the fire, the lithe body so much like his own weaving through the other creatures as they danced.

"I don't know. It's not that bad." Bakura's eyes flicked to his shoulder where he found Gadai's chin propped upon it. The far darrig yet again made himself overly familiar with Bakura’s body. Although, given how many times they had buggered on the journey, he supposed he couldn't blame Gadai. An arm the color of dry dirt appeared from his side, a thin blue bottle clutched in his hand. "Finally found the good stuff though. Don't have to rely on that swill Atem's trying to pass off as hospitality." Bakura snatched it, taking a long pull. The liquid gave a burn that had no warmth going down, his body tingling with the elfin magicked liqueur.

Gadai pried the bottle from the fae’s fingers, moving to stand next to Bakura as he drank. He lacked the rat-like features of so many mortal tales and if he had a tail, Bakura had not seen it. Gadai insisted that rumors of his tail were a misunderstanding about his cock. Now, with the ends of his silver hair hanging around his face, violet-gray eyes reflecting the flames and dancers' shadows, even the Unseelie would admit Gadai was attractive in a rough sort of way. A scar marring his face did little to detract from his handsomeness, unlike his garb. They had tried to convince him to abandon the tattered red cloak he wore, but Gadai refused. Bakura once tried to steal it during their journey. The resulting scrape on his cheek from being pressed face down into the fabric had taken a full day to heal. He rubbed his skin in memory, attention returning to the bonfire. "Atem wants to show how powerful he is. Why else call us all here after so long?" He gestured to the dancers, to others who, like them, gathered around to watch, and finally to where Atem sat on an elevated golden throne, his latest plaything on his lap. "Nothing said today couldn't have been told to us by messenger."

The other being tipped the bottle back before pressing it into Bakura's waiting palm. "What does it matter? We're here now and I won't waste my time being bitter about it. Besides." Gadai stole the bottle back the moment it left Bakura's lips, swirling into the firelight, his cloak flaring out behind him. "There's opportunities here. It is Beltane, after all." With a knowing wink, Gadai melted into the dancers.

"Ass." Bakura tried to blame his burning cheeks on the wine, watching as Gadai found the other Unseelie prince, Ryou, lifting and spinning him around. The laughter of Bakura's younger brother carried over the music, making others nearby laugh as well from the joy in it. His hair streamed freely behind him, a phantasm that disappeared into the crowd as Gadai set him down. Bakura rolled his eyes at their playfulness and began to wonder just where the far darrig had found the bottle and if there were more.

The fae prince's thoughts never strayed beyond his own concerns. If they had, he might have noticed the figure observing him from deeper in the darkness.

 

* * *

 

Atem stroked his pet's head. The pixie's hair had been styled to look much like his own, something others would have called vain had they dared speak openly against him. To his immense pleasure, the little beauty leaned into the caress. The pale gold tunic he had been given only fell to mid-thigh, beguilingly simple in design but woven from the finest elfin silk. It suited him much as Atem's more ornate cream and golden robes did him. "Enjoying yourself, dear one?" 

Yugi grinned brightly and Atem made note to give him another present just for that smile. "There are so many here! I didn't know there were all these different types of immortals." He wriggled happily on Atem’s lap, laughing and clapping as one of the Unseelie princes was lifted and spun above the gathering. "Everyone is having such a good time!"

The elf king caught Yugi's chin, attracting his bouncing gaze back to him. "And their joy is yours?"

Magenta eyes met his, reminding Atem of how few would dare be so bold. "Well, yeah! It's good when everyone is happy. Isn't it?"

"It is." He inclined his head in acknowledgement as a few immortals passed before the dais, pausing to bow in deference. They, he noted, kept their eyes averted. "I am sure the Beltane celebration has somewhat to do with their mood as well." The pixie frowned, head tilting and sitting straighter. "You are familiar with Beltane, aren't you?" His pet lowered his eyes, gold bangs falling across his forehead. Atem curled his arm around Yugi's shoulders and pulled him against his chest. "I forget not all were taught about the rituals across the long-lived races. Beltane is one of the few remaining nights where the mortals remember to give tribute to us, lest we cause harm to befall them and their livestock. It marks a new growing season and some of the fae mark their age by the number of Beltane they have celebrated." His fingers pushed aside the hair from his pixie's ears, lowering his lips to the delicate skin. "And couplings usually occur on this night. Those running through the woods can be caught and held, copulating where they fall." A blush stole across the other's face, eyes wide at the idea of such behavior. Atem's fingers glided over his bare arm, across his hips, down his exposed thigh. "Would you like to run, little one?"

Yugi's eyes skirted back over the assembled. The thought of running, of being caught be any one of their number, was titillating but it wasn't something he wanted. Not any longer. He shifted to straddle the king's lap, tunic slipping higher on his thighs, hands resting on his shoulders. "Why should I run when Your Majesty has already captured me?" He grinned as he pressed their lips together, ignoring the shouts and applause as Atem's hands snuck under his tunic to cup his ass in front of all their guests as they kissed.

 

* * *

 

He crouched in the shadow of the throne, picking his teeth with a bone, and sparing a glance upwards at the cause of the noise. He sneered and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Creatures of light playing at being dark. It would have been offensive if he'd been capable of being offended. He sucked and gnawed on what remained of his last meal, dark gaze returning to the shadows before the fire. The light hurt his eyes but he looked anyway. The outlines of the dancers blurred, melding and separating rhythmically. It fascinated a solitary being like him. A wisp of black smoke formed and blew away behind him, slippered feet stepping nearer. He didn't even bother to turn his head. 

"You smell."

He pulled the bone from his lips with a wet sound. "You've been around these pretentious assholes too long if you noticed it." He tossed the bone over his shoulder carelessly, chuckling lowly when it hit a passerby.

The creature beside him clicked his tongue. "You could at least pretend to be less of an animal."

"Why?" He finally looked up, grinning toothily. "So I can impress this lot of idiots? I'll pass." He spit at the other's feet, though he didn't aim to hit him.  
  
The other didn't so much as flinch. "We are guests. None of our kind have attended a gathering like this in an age or more."

He scratched at his hair, violent yellow spikes covering his head haphazardly. "Not my problem."

"Just behave yourself. I won't tell you again."  
  
He rolled his eyes as the other disappeared in another curl of smoke. "Yes, sir," he mocked, eyes drawn once more to the fire. "Wouldn't want to mess up your one chance to kill the king, now would I?"

 

* * *

 

Ryou pulled Gadai and himself away from the dancers and bowed low before Atem's throne. Gadai, not being as respectful, spread himself out over the steps. Atem prepared to kick him off when Yugi moved on his lap to sit on his thighs once more. It was obvious the pixie was enchanted by the youngest Unseelie prince and Atem couldn't find it in him to be upset. The fae was stunningly beautiful, with long white hair hanging to his waist and seafoam green eyes sparkling with joy and mischief. Dressed in a white tunic and gray breeches, he'd long ago discarded his boots for dancing. Atem momentarily wondered if he could have two pets before remembering Unseelie tended to be temperamental. 

"King Atem! I thank you for allowing us to hold our Beltane festivities as part of your conference." The fae straightened, pale face flushed from the heat and the dancing. "May I announce the start to the night's true revelry?" He grinned, sparing a glance at Gadai who licked his lips.

"You are certainly a jewel of your Court." Atem inclined his head. "Proceed, Prince Ryou."

Permission granted, Ryou bounded up onto the dais, standing behind Gadai so that the far darrig was sprawled at his feet. "Glory to King Atem!" Ryou shouted over the assembled, the music fading to a stop. Heads turned, some echoing his declaration as they awaited his words. The clearing had been enchanted so that all could understand each other, no matter their mother tongue. It was much simpler and more reliable than having hundreds of interpreters.

"Glory to King Atem, who by his gracious hospitality, has permitted us to indulge in our Beltane festival this night!" Applause broke out among the crowd, most of the attendees enjoying the excuse for a party. "The night is yet young! And so, I call to begin the rest of our merrymaking. Beltane marks the time of new growth, of fertility among our lands and people, mortal and immortal. On this night, all are free to couple as they choose. Those in the woods may be captured and bedded where they are found. If you do not wish this to happen to you, stay here around the fire. By honor, you will not be touched. Those who go into the woods, however..." He grinned sharply, a reminder that he was not the angel for which a wayward mortal might have mistaken him. "Happy hunting." As the gathered creatures roared, Ryou bowed over Gadai, grinning mischievously at him before leaping over him off the dais and dashing into the woods.

A deeper shadow lurking next to the throne and the smell of old blood caught Ryou's attention. He slowed for a moment until his head whipped back at Gadai's call, the shout spurring him to run faster, laughter trailing behind him as he disappeared.

 

* * *

 

He watched the little fae's speech curiously. His kind didn't have festivals or gatherings, but perhaps they should if this is what they entailed. He grinned viciously, letting his tongue loll out at the mention of a hunt, his sandpaper voice joining the chorus of shouts. Screw the other's plans. He was going to have fun. 

The fae rushed by him and he did turn his head for that, pupils that were wide and black in the darkness, shrinking in the bright opalescent light of the prince. He could see the beat of the Unseelie’s pulse in the long white line of his throat, the way his chest lifted and lowered with each breath, hair falling over his shoulders as he hesitated. Then a cry, someone shouting, and the fae was gone once more, only the impression of his bare feet in the dirt showing he had been there at all.

The figure straightened, sight trained on where the Unseelie had run between the trees. With a whisper of sound, he shifted, a hyena's soft paws pressing into the ground as he ran. He had his prey.

 

* * *

 

The older Unseelie prince waited for the crowd to disperse before stealing into the woods with his pilfered bottle of elfin wine. None would dare touch him, the first in line for his father's Court, and so he walked silently between the trees, lost in his own musings. Bakura would almost have preferred to return to his rooms, but being royal came with expectations. Expectations like bedding someone at Beltane. He smiled to himself. Eventually Gadai would find him or he would find Ryou as he'd done for so many Beltanes before. Either would be acceptable. 

His defenses down, the prince wasn't aware that someone indeed stalked him. He stopped to take a drink and everything happened at once. A warm hand clamped down on his right vambrace, a ragged voice hissing triumphantly in his ear, the words themselves drowned out by Gadai bounding through the underbrush, shouting happily. "Ah-ha! Found you! Hey! Who the fuck are you?"

Bakura's head turned slowly to the being holding his wrist. The male, slightly taller and dressed in dusty loose linen trousers, scowled at Gadai. He squeezed Bakura's wrist, pulling him back, narrowing his eyes as he spit words at Gadai. Away from the bonfire and their lodgings, the linguistic enchantment ended and the fae and far darrig, who spoke the same language, could no longer understand the other creature. Bakura tried to free himself, but the other wheeled on him, teeth bared.

"Hey! He can't understand you, asshole." Gadai crashed into Bakura, pushing at the stranger and knocking the bottle to the ground. He only yelled again, shaking the fae's captured arm.

The prince studied his attacker. Fine sandy gold hair hung around his face and shoulders, his skin a shade lighter than Gadai's but still much darker than Bakura's own. Gold shone against his skin at his ears and throat, over his arms and wrists, even wrapped around his waist. Even in the dim light, furious black eyes burned holes into Gadai and Bakura noticed he was rather pleasing to look at. He might not mind coupling with him. It was Beltane, after all.

"Gadai, do shut up." The far darrig turned and gawped at him. Bakura gestured with his free hand to the other being who went silent. "He wants to celebrate Beltane with me. He's claiming me."

"But you're the prince! You don't bed down with riffraff!" Gadai sneered. "No matter how pretty they are."

"I am the prince and, as such, I will fuck whomever I wish." Bakura pulled himself up taller, a full head taller than Gadai but still not quite meeting the stranger’s height. His free hand slipped to Gadai's as his captured wrist twisted, fingers stretched along the warmth of the stranger's skin. "And I choose you both."

 

* * *

 

“Some- ah! Someone will see us.” Yugi panted the words out, squirming down on Atem’s lap, tunic pushed up around his waist. His hands braced on the elf king’s shoulders, lifting and lowering his hips, the vibrant blush on his face deepening. They had made it as far as the shadows behind the dais before Atem pulled him down to the ground. 

“If any come this way, let them watch,” Atem groaned, hands on Yugi’s ass, helping him bounce. His wine colored eyes watched as Yugi dropped hard onto Atem’s cock, fringe falling across his face. He squeezed Yugi’s ass and delighted in the trembling moan it elicited from him. “Let all see what a lovely sweet I have, one who pleases me so very well.”

A smile hinted across Yugi’s lips at the praise. He ground on him, hips rocking, muscles clenching around the king’s cock. “It’s my pleasure,” he laughed breathlessly at his own pun. A wet spot formed on the front of his tunic, the friction of the silk against his tip making him leak. “You, you feel amazing.” His fingers dug into Atem’s shoulders, the king’s grip on his ass keeping their hips locked together.

Atem sat up, kissing Yugi’s collarbone, his shoulder, his throat, before letting him move freely once more. “You say that every time. As though it’s our first joining each time.” He wasn’t quite fond of the dirt under his ass but he was not going to act like he hadn’t done it before either. One hand snuck from Yugi’s ass, over his hip, finding the hard line of his shaft wrapped in silk between them. Yugi gasped even at the light touch. “What have you been taught?”

The pixie bit his lip, trying to remember. He knew it was important. “Ah, ah! Ah, not, not to cum until after the king does.” He feared that was going to be difficult, especially if those caresses continued. “Unless he tells me I can.” Yugi couldn’t hold back a whimper nor the plaintive note in his voice, bouncing harder.

Atem’s fingers tightened, stroking him lazily. “Should I? Would I be a benevolent king if I allowed my pet to cum before me?” Atem teetered on the edge, heat flooding his veins, focused on the way the little one fucked himself on his dick. He squeezed Yugi’s cock. “Hm?”

“Yes!” Yugi tipped his head back, heedless that even if they weren’t seen, he would certainly be heard. “Yes, please. Please, sire. Please, yes.” Each drop of his hips had him shaking with the need to cum, little noises squeaking out of his mouth when words failed him.

It was that desperate sound that Atem wanted. His hand moved faster over Yugi’s shaft. “You may cum, pet. It is Beltane, after all.” Yugi’s body tensed, back bowing as he pressed his hips down, the wet patch on his tunic spreading, silk clinging to his cock as cum dripped down his twitching length. Atem’s eyes lingered on the sight as he pulled his hand away from the mess, holding Yugi’s hips until, with a few more quick jerks, his eyes rolled back, his own cum flooding into the pixie’s ass.

Featherlight kisses rained along his diadem to his temples, Yugi’s soft hands brushing Atem’s hair off his face. Atem tipped his face up, letting Yugi kiss his lips. He cradled the pixie to his chest, murmuring praise into his hair as they enjoyed the afterglow.

 

* * *

 

Ryou stopped to catch his breath in a moonbeam between the trees. Around him came sounds of laughter and shouts and, within the quiet, a few low moans of pleasure. Several had tried to catch him, spurred on by his words earlier, and each had failed. He would find his brother again, or Gadai perhaps. None of these others seemed worthy of his attentions. He lifted his face into the moonglow and smiled beatifically. 

"I know you've been following me." Ryou didn't bother to open his eyes and search the shadows to pinpoint the presence that had been tracking him. "Why haven't you tried to catch me yet?" A rustle of grass and twigs answered him, a shadow shifting and stretching upright. "Come into the moonlight so that I may see you." Rough words he couldn't understand whispered to him through the stillness, revealing the being's location. Ryou dropped his head, eyes trained on a tree before him and slightly to the left. "Come here." More strange words and Ryou suspected they would be at this all night if nothing else was done. Ryou stepped forward without further hesitation, never looking away from the darkness, crossing the ground soundlessly on bare feet as he went into the shadows.

He took one step back, sinking more into the welcoming darkness, away from the strange creature of moonlight that approached so bravely. Looking at the Unseelie hurt, the image burned into his eyes, yet he would not look away. The petite creature didn’t even reach his shoulder, he realized, dazzled by the delicateness of his features. The fae seemed clean, cleaner than anything he would ever know back in his homeland. His fingers reached out when they were close enough, brushing carefully over his cheek, eyes widening at the cool feel of his skin.

Ryou's eyes slipped closed, pressing his face into the hand. The creature's touch was warm, almost hot against his skin. He could hear his brother's voice intruding his thoughts, warning him that he was too trusting, too vulnerable. His eyes fluttered open, the frown that threatened his good mood wiping away as he took in the strange being. Yellow hair stuck out from his head, matted and dirty, much like the rest of him. Rags clung to his lanky frame, patches of tan skin visible in the gaps and threads. Like Ryou, he'd foregone shoes, toes spread wide as though they weren't made for forests. Black eyes bore down on him, examining him, and Ryou blushed.

"The blood I smelled by Atem. It was you, wasn't it?" The creature only tipped his head, not understanding the words. "What are you? What's your name?" No answer came, only a warm thumb brushing over the fae’s lips. Ryou's face tilted up, lips parting, heart speeding up as the nameless creature leaned down. It was heady, the warmth radiating off his form, sinking into Ryou's bones. He stretched up, arms looping over his shoulders, decision made. Bakura and Gadai would be on their own tonight. "Yes," Ryou sighed against the other's mouth. "Yes, I choose you.”

The first caress of his lips against the fae’s was reverent, almost sweet. The second, less so, and on the third, he plunged his tongue between softly parted lips, arms ensnaring the pretty creature as though afraid he was no more than a wraith that would fade into the ether. The one he claimed tasted of the coolest water, dappled with starlight and promises both dark and hopeful. Again and again, he returned to his mouth, as though with each kiss he could drink his very essence, a being of darkness consuming a beauty of the light. When the fae bit down on his lip, he growled and did the same and found himself rewarded with a soft pleasured sigh.

The Unseelie’s legs trembled, nails digging into the other’s flesh as, for once, he wasn’t treated like some breakable treasure. He moaned louder at the teeth sinking into his shoulder, hair almost brushing the ground as he bent backwards. The heat and the rush and the hardness trapped between their bodies overwhelmed Ryou, causing him to giggle with the joy of it. The creature lifted his head, licking away blood from where he’d broken skin with his sharp teeth, and arched a brow in question. Ryou shivered as he watched that tongue, jumping up to suck the taste of himself away. The other caught him with strong arms, a raspy chuckle vibrating in his chest, realizing he’d chosen his prey well tonight.

 

* * *

 

For some things, language isn’t required to communicate. Things such as getting undressed, getting others naked, getting pressed between their bodies as they worship your flesh. Bakura dropped his head back against Gadai, the stranger sucking a brand into the prince's collarbone, the fae’s hands roaming over their bodies. The other was hotter than the Beltane fire and Bakura almost expected mist to rise between them. He shivered as Gadai's hardened cock fit into the cleft of his ass, the warmth of them both surrounding him. The fae let his eyes close, his consciousness drifting on the flow of their bodies, arching to the other as he bent and dragged his teeth over Bakura's nipples, pressing his hips back to grind against Gadai's erection. Bakura's fingers tangled in the creature's golden hair, surprised at the gritty feel, as though he had rolled along a beach. The texture distracted him enough to realize the being was growling, black eyes locked on Gadai. The prince tugged on the hair in his hands, attracting his attention. 

"Bakura." Bakura laid his hand over his own chest, hoping the other would understand. "Bakura," he repeated before shifting to place his hand on the far darrig. "Gadai. Gadai." Gadai smirked, twining the Unseelie's braid around his hand. Bakura put his palm on the other's chest and waited.

The other sneered at Gadai, but the names were helpful. At least then the fae would know what name to scream later. He mimicked Bakura's actions, trailing his fingers over the fae's chest. "Bakura." He poked the far darrig roughly. "Gadai." Bakura threw his free arm out and blocked Gadai from retaliating. The creature's hand covered Bakura's where it rested on his chest. "Malik. Malik."

"What the hell kind of name is that?" Gadai scowled.

"Shut up, Gadai." Bakura's head tilted to the side. "It's from the Southern lands. The deserts." Suddenly the texture in his hair made sense; it most likely was in fact sand. He'd never encountered one of the djinn before and Bakura's eyes roamed appreciatively over him.

Gadai pressed into his back to whisper in his ear. "Tell me you're only doing this to steal his gold."

"No, you rat. I hadn- Nnnnn!" Malik's hand thrust between Bakura's legs, fingers unerringly finding his hole and shoving two inside, clearly bored with a conversation he couldn't understand. The fae paled even more, scrambling at Malik's shoulders and lifting onto his toes. "Fuck!" He panted through the flash of initial pain and heat. Rough handling wasn't unknown to Bakura, Gadai himself not always having been gentle, but the boldness of the action, of being taken like that, shocked him. Gadai, likewise, was stunned, simply gaping at the display before his brain kicked into gear, leaning into the prince to keep him upright.

Malik glared at Gadai as the far darrig murmured a spell into Bakura's skin. A flush of color broke out over Bakura's skin as the magic worked, muscles relaxing, the djinni's eyes widening with surprise at the slick fluid suddenly coating his fingers. The fae moaned in relief, covering the hiss of pain from Malik. "I'm only not breaking his hand because it's in you," Gadai grumbled into Bakura's back, lips brushing his skin, following the splotches of color.  
  
Bakura moaned again as his body began to relax, thanks to Gadai’s magic, writhing on Malik's fingers, reaching a hand behind him to stroke Gadai's cock as his other hand lowered, fingers circling Malik's. A perfect rhythm was impossible as Malik added a third finger, stretching him wide, but Bakura squeezed and tugged until they were each breathless and desperate. "Gadai." Bakura didn't whine, princes didn't whine, pushing the far darrig away. "Down. Now."

"Taking the middle as usual?" Gadai teased, though he did as he was told, brushing his fingers behind his balls as he lay on the ground, magic making himself slick and open. In truth, he didn't mind, having already suspected one of the princes would be fucking him for Beltane. He propped his head on his arms, spreading his legs wide. "Well, come on then."

The Unseelie moved Malik's hand out of him, shifting them into position over Gadai. A series of crude gestures were needed to get his intentions across, Bakura's shaft sinking into Gadai. "Fucking rat bastard, did you make yourself tighter?" Gadai only chuckled as they braced, waiting for the djinni to enter Bakura.

 

* * *

 

The tree was only slightly uncomfortable at his back as Ryou was lifted against it, pale legs wrapping around the other's waist, practically sitting in his hands. Their clothes, if Ryou was kind enough to call what the other had been wearing clothing, lay scattered around them. The fae lifted his chin, long white hair catching on the bark, while his chosen lover left teethmarks across his throat and shoulders. He suspected the other had drawn blood in a few places, but he was too aroused to care. His balls ached, squeezed between them, making Ryou squirm and gasp as he was lifted higher. His hands flew to the other's face, forcing him to lift his head for Ryou's kisses, hungry little pecks that had the fae nipping at the other's lips until they both tasted blood. Ryou moaned as his lover's tongue dove into his mouth, the flavor of their blood and saliva mixing. 

Everyone in Ryou's life was so careful with him. Every lover's touch gentled as though bruising him would be an insult to his beauty. Even the lower fae who served his father's Court kept their contact to a minimum, if they touched him at all. He hated it. And now, this stranger was giving him everything he'd wanted with rough kisses, piercing bites, and possessive fingers. Ryou broke away from their kiss to breathe, skin flushed. The other's cock nudged against his hole and Ryou brushed his fingertips over his lower abdomen, magic infusing his pelvis until he was slick and ready. Sharp nails embedded in dark skin as the other shoved his cock into Ryou's ass. The Unseelie prince bit down on his own lip, heat and pleasure shooting through his senses. His pale lashes fluttered open as his lover licked away the blood on his lips.

In the shadows of the woods, hidden from the moon's light, Ryou stared at the other. Dark blood clung to his lips and his cheek where Ryou's thumb had brushed over the markings under his black eyes. A deliberately vicious slam of his hips scraped Ryou's skin against the bark and he cried out at the sharp delight, legs clinging to his waist. The fae clawed down his arms and chest, blood flowing over the muscle, each cruel thrust forcing noise from Ryou. The creature's rough voice whispered somewhat and Ryou could only shake his head, clueless as to what was said. He doubted he could comprehend his own mother tongue now, losing himself to the pleasure. His fingers tried to sneak between them, looking to soothe his own neglected cock, only to find his hand snatched away and stretched over his head.

Ryou opened his mouth to protest, cut off when his lover's tongue filled it instead, fierce and claiming. The prince melted against him, all thoughts of objection fleeing under the dominating kiss. It was almost enough, on its own, and then the stranger changed his stance and the angle of his thrusts and Ryou tore his lips away to scream in ecstasy. His nails dug into the hand restraining him and into the other’s shoulder, eyes rolling back as warmth gathered low in his hips. The prince’s hair scattered over his face and shoulders, caught in the tree’s bark, screams abruptly going quiet as his world exploded in a rush of heat and cum. Ryou was still orgasming, ass clenched tight, when the other dropped his head, biting Ryou's throat, hot jism coating the fae's insides.

Their muscles trembled, hearts still racing, and Ryou's fingers threaded through golden spikes, pulling his head up for a kiss. Slower than their kisses before, lazy but no less heated, Ryou savored the coppery taste of his lover's tongue, knowing soon they would need to separate.

 

* * *

 

Gadai eventually had to admit to himself that maybe the unworthy asshole who’d claimed Bakura wasn’t quite so unworthy. At least Bakura’s face clearly looked like this Malik was worthy. The far darrig rolled his body and pressed his knee into Bakura’s hip, grounding him as the stranger slammed into him over and over. Bakura grit his teeth, fingers sunk into the dirt at Gadai’s shoulders, barely able to rock forward into him for the driving rhythm Malik set. Hot fingers clenched around Bakura’s hips, holding him steady, and pinned between them, Bakura felt his mind go blissfully blank. Malik leaned down, hissing words into Bakura’s ear and he shuddered without comprehending, ass tightening around his shaft, grinding down against Gadai’s hips. Gadai grunted, tilting his lower body up to change the angle of Bakura’s thrusts, his thick cock bouncing between them. 

Malik’s hand curled around Bakura’s braid, fingers threading into the plait and tugging, forcing Bakura’s head up. He groaned and Gadai trembled with lust for the prince, seeing him so undone. He reached up and cupped the fae’s cheeks. “Bakura…” The Unseelie’s eyes opened, dark and unfocused, and he did whine then, there was no denying it this time. Gadai arched, teeth scraping over his lip. “Bakura-ah!” Gadai’s muscles fluttered around Bakura’s cock, his dick twitching as he came over his stomach and chest. Bakura moaned, pushing back into Malik, sliding deeper into Gadai’s relaxed body. If Gadai moved his head slightly, he could see Malik, those black eyes roaming Bakura’s back and ass so freely, his muscles standing out with the tension of their fucking in the moonlight. Gadai groaned again, his cock giving one last spurt.

Bakura clung to the earth so he didn’t simply melt away. Gadai’s heat welcomed him as it always did, but Malik stretched him more than he’d ever been before and Bakura found it addicting. Malik pulled him back by his hair, swallowing the prince’s whimpering with demanding kisses. Their rhythm stuttered, Bakura wrenching away to scream Malik’s name as he emptied his balls into Gadai. Malik shoved him back down, ignoring Gadai’s protest as the prince ended up face down in the spend on his chest. Bakura’s dirt-covered fingers scratched at Gadai, holding to him, moaning freely at Malik’s last few violent thrusts until wet heat poured into him.

The prince shivered as Malik placed a kiss on his spine, pressing shamelessly into Gadai’s touch as the far darrig tried to wipe the mess away from Bakura’s face. Once the djinni pulled out, Gadai rolled Bakura to his side, gathering the nearest piece of discarded fabric into a pillow for the fae. Bakura murmured his thanks, sinking into Gadai’s strong arms. Malik stood and stretched, watching the two others with some interest. He was used to fucking and leaving, if there was anything to leave, and this tenderness was unfamiliar. He hesitated, a part of him not wishing to disturb Bakura who had ended up with Malik’s pants under his head.

Gadai clucked his tongue, extending his hand to Malik. “Get down here and cuddle, asshole.” Malik might not have understood the words, but the far darrig’s wiggling fingers were clear enough, the djinni folding to the ground behind Bakura. The Unseelie sighed contentedly, cradled between their warmth, letting sleep take him.

The dawn had barely broken the horizon, pink rays peeking through the trees, when Malik awoke to someone kicking his shin. He snarled, pushing himself to sitting, only to find his own iron blade at his throat.

“It seems,” Bakura purred as he stood before Malik, holding the stolen blade carefully by the leather wrapped hilt, Gadai at his shoulder, “that you have some explaining to do.”

 

* * *

 

Ryou led his lover by the hand back to the remains of the bonfire. His hair was knotted on his head, held in place by one of the fabric strips the other had worn last night. The fae’s tunic hung loose from his breeches but he noticed the looks they got weren’t for his disheveled state. He grinned and squeezed the stranger’s hand, glancing at the expanse of bare skin trailing behind him. They had only found enough fabric for Ryou’s hair and to fashion a long slung wrap around his lover’s hips. The Unseelie snatched a bottle of watered-down wine from a passing attendant and apples from another, tossing one to his lover as he picked a spot under a hazel tree for their breakfast. 

He sank to his knees in the soft grass, luring the other down with him. “There. Food, drink, and we can finally understand each other.” Ryou smiled sweetly and the creature thought it was more brilliant than the sunrise over the dunes in his homeland. “I’m Ryou.” He threw his apple into the air, took a swig of the wine and caught the apple just as he pulled the bottle away. He offered the bottle to his lover. “What are you called?”

The darker creature shook his head as he took the bottle, taking a long grateful pull. His kind didn’t have names. The dead had no tongues to speak their names so there was no need for them. He was only at the gathering at all because of the plans of the other from his homeland and that one had never asked for or given a name. “Surely you have a name.” Ryou frowned and bit into his apple, thinking, as a name was obviously not coming. “Who are your people? I didn’t recognize your mother tongue.”

“Djinn.” The prince’s green eyes widened. “From the South.” His raspy voice flowed over Ryou’s senses like sand wearing on stone and Ryou would have let himself be worn to nothing simply to hear it again. However, the djinni seemed to decide he’d spoken enough, wrinkling his nose as he tentatively nibbled at the fruit. The tart juice hit his tongue and he recoiled, covering his mouth in case he was sick.

Ryou quickly took the apple away with an apology. “Is it bad?” He examined the apple as well as his own. “They turn sometimes. At least it doesn’t look like you got a worm.”

“I’d prefer the worm.” He took a drink of the wine to wash away the taste. “Worms squirm but they mean the flesh is fresh.”

“…you’re a flesh eater. The blood smell. Of course.” Ryou shook his head, getting to his feet to flag a nearby attendant. He made a request in swift, hushed tones before resettling on the ground. “What class of djinn are you? I studied different races as we traveled here and there are different castes of djinni, aren’t there?”

The nameless one studied the fae before answering. “I’m a ghoul.” He expected one so delicate-looking to be aghast but then Ryou continued to surprise him. The dried blood on his lips and shoulders should have been reminder enough that looks were deceiving. The soft morning sunlight filtered into the clearing, coloring Ryou’s skin pink. “Were we in your books?”

The prince nodded. “I know what a ghoul is, how you survive in… such an environment.” Ryou smirked though he knew he looked like Bakura when he did. “If you’re waiting for me to run away screaming, I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.” The servant returned, offering Ryou a covered tray and bowing low. The prince accepted it and dismissed the man, setting it on the ground between them. “I hope they did this properly.” The djinni was already leaning closer, mouth hanging open as the smell escaped when Ryou lifted the lid. His face went gaunt, eyes black, and with his wild hair, the fae almost understood why the mortals feared his kind. Clawed fingers snatched away a thick mutton leg, teeth sinking into the skin, blood smearing his chin. Ryou picked up a piece of jerky, chewing on it while the ghoul dove into another piece of mutton.

Only after he’d eaten all the larger pieces, his mouth and hands bloodied, did the djinni sit back on his haunches, sucking the marrow from a bone. “What’s that?” He pointed at the jerky Ryou had. “It smells like flesh but it’s not bleeding.”

“Cured meat. It keeps longer, making it good for travel. A little salty, but this is elk, I believe, and quite delicious.” Ryou wiped his fingers on the grass. “Was your breakfast good?”

“Humans are better, but yes.” The fae cleaned up the bones and pocketed the rest of the jerky for later. “Thank you,” the ghoul said softly, unused to having any reason to be gracious.

The Unseelie smiled, leaning the empty wine bottle against the tree. “Atem isn’t a bad host. You just have to a-ah…” Ryou’s words broke off as he lifted his eyes back to his lover. The sunlight shone brighter, even in the shade of the tree, and the black of the ghoul’s eyes had retreated, leaving deep purple pools of color. The fae crawled nearer, rising to his knees and brushing his thumbs along the other’s high cheekbones. He didn’t move for Ryou’s inspection. “Your eyes. They look like amethysts.”

The other tipped his head, not understanding. He had only seen his reflection in the silt-filled floods and the polished gold of the dead. “My eyes are black.”

“No, love.” Ryou kissed one eyelid and then the other. The ghoul circled his arms around Ryou’s waist. “They’re quite purple. We’ll find you a mirror and-”

“Ryou!” Bakura’s sharp tone interrupted their moment, Ryou’s head whipping up to find his brother glaring at him. “Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been looking for you all morning. We’ve got a problem.” Together, Bakura and Gadai shoved Malik down to the ground, Gadai now wielding the dagger. “Where’s the king?”

The ghoul arched a brow at his brethren, idly wondering if he should get involved. A subtle shake of the other’s head kept him seated with Ryou in his arms. The younger prince, rather put out at his brother’s rudeness, tossed his hair back, sassy in his reply. “Good morning, brother. Gadai. I have been occupied. Don’t fret. I was able to celebrate Beltane on my own.” Even from his lower position, Ryou still managed to look down his nose at Bakura. “I see no problem other than your lack of manners. Oh, and as I didn’t bed the elf king, I cannot tell you his whereabouts. Is that all?”

Bakura growled, kneeling to grab Ryou’s arm. “Do you see that blade? Do you know what it is?” He shook his stubborn brother lightly and pointed at the prostrate Malik. “He wants to murder King Atem,” he hissed. “A fucking djinni named Malik.”

Before Ryou could respond, the ghoul tilted his head, eyes on the other djinni. “You have a name?”

Malik tried to sit up, Gadai pushing the dagger against his throat for his efforts. The djinni rolled his eyes. “Yes. You didn’t care.” The ghoul shrugged because it was true. “And so what if I do? Our kind in the South have been forgotten for far too long. We were once kings ourselves, rulers of an empire. Now a light-lover thinks we should bow to him?” Malik tipped his chin back and snorted. “Fuck that.”

“You can’t…” The elder Unseelie passed his hand over his face and groaned.

Ryou pushed his brother away, brow creasing as he leaned closer to Malik. “You have purple eyes too. Lighter though.” Malik stared back into Ryou’s eyes. “Are you a ghoul too?” Ryou noticed the way his lover tensed a moment too late.

“No,” Malik’s gravelly voice hissed. “Let me show you what I am.” Fire, smoke, and heat flashed from his body. The ghoul turned them quickly and covered Ryou, Bakura hunched behind them. Gadai bore the worst of it, crying out as he was blown backwards. Around them, people shouted, the commotion stirring them to attention. The princes and the far darrig stared at Malik as the smoke dissipated. Wings of flame stood above his shoulders, horns curling back like a crown from his brow, his eyes cruel as he regarded them.

“An ifrit,” Ryou breathed in awe. Smoke and shadows began to cover Malik’s legs. “He’s going to disappear.” Reading about such powerful creatures was nothing compared to witnessing them and Ryou was awed by the display.

“Like fuck he is.” Bakura lunged for Malik, the others shouting for him to stop. His hand closed around Malik’s wrist, the inverse of how they’d met last night. Fire burned through his palm and fingers and the Unseelie folded to his knees, clothes and hair singeing, mouth open in a silent scream. Tears streamed down his face, feeling like his blood boiled in his very veins, only managing a weak whimper.

The sound was enough to break Malik’s cold sneer, wings slowly folding into his back, realizing the pain he was inflicting on the fae. “Bakura.” The prince couldn’t reply, eyes rolling back as consciousness started to slip away. “Oh. Bakura.” Malik bent down, his touch bearable once more as he caressed Bakura’s jaw, whisking them away into the smoke.

“BAKURA! BAKURAAAAAA!” Ryou screamed, heart shattering when his brother disappeared with the ifrit. The ghoul held him tightly and he shoved to get free, crying for Bakura. Gadai pulled himself to Ryou’s side, only a warning look from the ghoul keeping his fist at his side. Guards began to surround their little scene, Atem striding across the clearing with a scowl.

“I’ll find them.” The ghoul nosed Ryou’s cheek. “I’ll find them and bring him back to you.” He couldn’t take the beautiful creature’s tears. Ages of being on his own and one night with a little fae prince had him aching with another’s sorrow. He caught Ryou’s face, kissing him until Ryou kissed him back, until the tears stopped. “I’ll find them,” he swore again. He met Gadai’s eyes and shifted, the hyena bolting into the woods.

The guards stepped aside for Atem, displeasure obvious on his face as he stood over them, fists on his hips. “What is going on here?” His eyes scanned the two of them and settled on Ryou. “Prince Ryou, are you in trouble?”

Gadai straightened his aching spine, glaring at the elf king. “Didn’t you see what just happened?! Of course we’re in-”

“Gadai.” Ryou’s steady voice cut him off, resting his hand on the far darrig’s knee as he pushed himself to his feet. He bowed low to Atem. “My apologies, King Atem. There appears to have been a misunderstanding. About Beltane.” The lie flowed smoothly from his tongue, catching Gadai’s eye with a deliberately blank look, only flicking his eyes once to where the blade was half hidden under his barefoot. “A lovers’ quarrel, if you will.” Ryou lifted his head and shifted to stand before Atem, not shying away from his gaze, while Gadai repositioned below him. “We are sorry for disturbing your morning, but I assure you that we are well.”

Atem did not seem convinced, but the Unseelies were the next highest royals at the gathering. Contradicting their word and insisting on taking control would be giving them insult and only result in larger problems than a mere fight the morning after Beltane. With a decisive nod, Atem relaxed his posture. “If that changes, you will come directly to me, prince.” Atem waved his hand, summoning his guards to follow him as he withdrew back toward his rooms.

The far darrig used the tree to get himself to his feet, his sore body protesting the motion. A small form stayed behind after the guards left, forgetting decorum and rushing to Ryou, wrapping his arms around him, whispering. “I saw it. I saw that thing. That thing that took your brother.”

Ryou swallowed thickly, forcing his worries for his brother aside for now. He stroked the pixie’s hair. “Yugi, was it?” The little being nodded against the fae’s chest. “Bakura will be fine.” He caught Yugi’s chin and lifted his face. “You protect yourself, okay? Stay with the guards. If anything feels amiss, run. Swear it to me.” The small creature swore it, barely audible but he did. “Good.” Ryou placed a heart-felt kiss on Yugi’s head. “Go back to King Atem. We will see you later.” The pixie’s cheeks colored to receive affection from the pretty Unseelie prince, dashing off after his royal lover. Ryou sighed and turned to Gadai, looping an arm around his waist and tucking the blade into Gadai’s robe. “I’m taking you back to our rooms. I think a bath would do us both wonders.”

 

* * *

 

Malik paced near the edge of a lake hidden in caves under the bonfire clearing, Bakura laying on the sand nearby. He hadn’t meant to hurt the fae. His form usually scared even other immortals off. “Stupid,” he spat at Bakura, fearing the insult was more internally directed. No one had ever touched him in his full fury before. It was most likely Bakura’s inherent magic that had saved him. Malik flopped to the ground, fret creasing his forehead, wings and horns gone. “So stupid.” He brushed Bakura’s hair away from his face, finally noticing the red patch on his cheek where he must have slept on the iron bade. The contact with the metal must have been slowing his healing, his palm remaining an angry red, and Malik cursed. 

The fae didn’t stir as Malik removed his boots and clothing and then stripped himself. He picked Bakura up in his arms, muscle in his jaw twitching as he stepped into the cold water, mist rising around them from their heat. Malik cupped water into his palm, pouring it over Bakura’s messy braid, black ash washing away from the white strands. Bakura shivered and Malik held him closer to his chest until their hair clung to their necks and Bakura’s temperature returned to normal.

Carrying the prince back to the shoreline, the ifrit placed him on the soft dark sand. Another shiver went through the Unseelie and Malik held his hand over him, letting the skin warm. He hovered his palm just over his pale flesh, water evaporating. Bakura’s body stilled once more, breathing slow and deep. Even in sleep, he was enchanting though Malik rather preferred him awake. His boldness and haughtiness were entertaining, his loyalty to his brother and friend admirable. And his voice made Malik sigh wistfully, longing to hear it now. The djinni kissed Bakura’s chest, his heartbeat strong under his lips.

Malik stretched over Bakura’s legs, kissing a path over his chest and abdomen. Bakura shifted under him which allowed Malik to settle between his legs. He dipped his head down, placing sucking kisses along Bakura’s shaft. He curled his tongue around the head and purred as Bakura’s erection began to form, petting his length. He continued his attentions until the fae stretched to full hardness. With one quick glance up the prince’s body, Malik licked his lips and opened his mouth, Bakura’s cock slipping along his tongue. He hadn’t done the act often, but the ifrit gave it everything he had. His hair fell around his face, swiping along Bakura’s hips as he bobbed his head up and down his shaft. A drop of wetness coated his tongue and Malik groaned, licking at his slit for more. He swallowed Bakura’s dick again, humming at the taste, and that seemed to be enough to finally drag the fae back into awareness.

“Malik…” Bakura automatically reached for the other, intent on burying his fingers into that sandy gold hair until his burnt hand came into contact with the coarse strands. He pulled it away with a hiss, eyes flying open as he cradled his hand to his chest. Malik lifted his head, the fae’s cock popping free of his lips.

“You have to use your magic to heal yourself.”

Bakura glared down at him, eyes adjusting to the darkness though his vision wasn’t as sharp as the djinni’s. “You do it,” he said, jabbing at Malik’s chest. “Where are we that I can understand you?”

“Atem isn’t as observant a king as he thinks. He’s got caverns and tunnels all under his compound. We’re close to the bonfire.” The djinni sat back on his heels, shaking his head. “I don’t have magic. I’ve done what I can, but you have to heal yourself.” Bakura grumbled, only the pain in his hand keeping him from being more annoyed at the interrupted blowjob. He concentrated, noting that Malik pulled away some, sending waves of healing down his arm and through his body. His hand and fingers would remain sore and he doubted he could wield a blade for some time, but he was mostly healed. His eyes closed as the pain lessened, shifting his legs to indicate he wanted Malik to continue. The slightest smirk teased Malik’s lips and he stretched back out, sucking on Bakura once more.

He might not be able to say the words, but he would show Bakura that he was sorry for hurting him.

 

* * *

 

In the shadows of the cavern, the hyena crouched lower. His fur didn’t blend, the tans that would match the sands of his home visible among the gray rocks, but if he stayed silent, they would be unaware of his presence. Especially as focused on each other as they were. The prince’s undamaged hand threaded into the ifrit’s hair and held his head as he thrust into his mouth. The nameless one hadn’t seen anything like this done before and he marveled at the fae’s obvious pleasure. Pink stole over his face and throat, head tipped back, mouth opened as he moaned freely. His hips rocked and the hyena’s eyes studied how the other’s cheeks hollowed out, the cock slipping over his lips and disappearing once more into his mouth. The Unseelie bucked faster, muscles casting bruise-like shadows over his skin as he curled up, shouting the ifrit’s name and spasming, falling back onto the sand, loose and smiling. The hyena shook his ears, having seen enough, and padding back down the tunnels. He would follow Ryou’s scent and let him know his brother was well. Then maybe they could try what he’d just seen.

 

* * *

 

Yugi chewed nervously on his thumb. It was a bad habit and he knew Atem would tell him to stop but he was still troubled by what happened with the Unseelies. And Ryou’s parting words… The pixie hurried his steps, walking into the circle of royal guards behind Atem. Shortly, the door to the elf king’s chamber closed and sealed them off from even the guards. Atem flung his cape onto a chair as Yugi scurried to his usual position, kneeling patiently at the foot of Atem’s bed. 

“Damn Southern filth. They should have stayed in their sand holes.” He sat heavily on the bed next to the pixie. “I never would have invited them if I had ever thought they would actually show.”

“What are they?”

Atem removed his slippers. “Djinn. An ifrit, if the reports are true. And a ghoul going by the stench of death coming from him.” He slipped his diadem from his temples, thumbs smoothing over the polished gold. “Why would they come now?”

The pixie squirmed, the fae’s warning replaying in his head. “I thought all were welcome. Didn’t you want representatives from all the long-lived races? Perhaps they did not want to be forgotten.”

“If only I could trust that to be the case.” He put the diadem on the floor with his slippers and reached over to stroke Yugi’s hair. “Djinn are rebellious and their ways, while as old as ours, are quite different.”

“Do you think Prince Ryou will be okay?” Yugi blurted out, cheeks coloring.

Atem smirked. “So worried for the younger Unseelie, are you? Do you find him lovely?” Yugi lowered his eyes but nodded. The king drew him closer, breath ghosting against the pixie’s ear. “Shall I have a guard fetch him for us? Bring him into my bed with you?” The smaller being squeaked. He shook his head, knowing Atem could do it no matter how he answered. Soft kisses followed the pixie’s cheek from ear to mouth. “Then you’ll have to please me all by yourself,” he teased.

Yugi grinned and slung his arms around Atem’s shoulders, parting his legs as the king guided them down onto the bed. “Anything you wish, Your Highness.”

 

* * *

 

Malik’s cock ached. The salty taste of the fae’s cum clung to his tongue, his lips swollen. He needed relief. “Bakura.” His name roused the Unseelie, lashes fluttering as he opened his eyes. His satisfied smile sharpened, realizing what the other wanted. The prince spread his legs more, Malik’s hungry gaze following the path of his fingers. Bakura teased his hole and Malik flinched at the electric shock of magic in Bakura’s skin. The fae pulled his hand back and the djinni swallowed a moan, the ring of muscle glistening with wetness. 

The prince pushed himself onto his elbow, curling his hand around Malik’s dick. “I should throw you into the cold water and leave you hurting.” He tugged, Malik falling to his hands over Bakura’s body. “But, fuck you, I like you in me too much.” Bakura licked his teeth, hooking his legs around Malik’s hips. “You fill me better than Gadai.” Malik stared down into Bakura’s crimson eyes, lips parting as his cock sank into the fae. Bakura dropped back down, thighs squeezing until the ifrit was buried completely in him.

Their fucking was slower than the previous night, Bakura already sated once. Malik’s hips rolled against Bakura’s, stealing breath from each other’s lips as they moved. The ifrit tensed once when Bakura’s fingers slid over the marks of his wings burned into his back. The fae’s cool, light touch soothed the ever-present fire in the scars and Malik groaned in relief. Bakura lifted his head to kiss over his collarbone to the gold encircling the djinni’s throat. “I could heal them, but I don’t know what it would do to your wings.”

Malik shook his head, dragging his lips against Bakura’s. “Can’t. No magic. Magic hurts.” He slammed his hips forward harder, Bakura’s “oh” drawing out as he clutched at Malik’s shoulders. “No more talking. Not now,” the ifrit growled against the fae’s mouth. Bakura choked on a whimper, limbs wrapping around him, lost to the sensations as Malik plowed into him. The djinni watched the expressions dance over his lover’s face, pushing himself up, forcing Bakura to fold almost in half, the next thrust of his dick helping Bakura find his voice again.

“Malik! Fuck, Malik!” His eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed as the ifrit hit his gland repeatedly.

He was so close. He only needed… “Open your eyes. Look at me, Bakura.” A peek of red from under white lashes, blood spilled on snow he’d only heard stories about, and Malik trembled, barely holding himself back. “Let go. Cum for me.” And Bakura did, because Malik told him to. He didn’t have much left after his earlier orgasm but it was enough to satisfy Malik whose shout echoed off the stone as he filled Bakura until jism dripped from his ass. Bakura wriggled and squirmed until he could lay flat again, Malik collapsing onto his chest.

Bakura’s fingers swept through the djinni’s hair. He stared at the darkness of the cave and feared the growing connection he felt to Malik. “What are you thinking? Why are you trying to commit regicide?” Malik didn’t react. “We’ve had no word from the Southern lands in an age. Why now and why attack Atem?”

“Does it matter?” Bakura huffed and Malik sat up, unable to have this conversation with his dick still in the fae’s ass. He crossed his arms. “Because I should rule. Atem has presided over the immortals for longer than any other in memory. It is time for another to step up. It is time for my kind to receive the recognition due us. I will lead them and I will be king.”

The fae’s mouth twitched as he listened. By the time he pushed himself up, he couldn’t hold back his laughter, head tipping back. “And you think that you would be king of the long-lived races instead?” Malik glared at him. “Oh, you naïve fool. You want to be king so badly. You’ve been so separate from the rest of us that you don’t even know.”

“Know what?” Malik ground out, half a mind to punch Bakura to make him stop cackling.

Still grinning, Bakura shook his head, reaching back to untwine his braided hair. “A usurper, if one survives, doesn’t become king. It falls to another of the old families.” He brushed his hair with his fingers. “It falls to my family.” He lifted his head, back straight, his heritage obvious even in his deconstructed state. “You cannot take the throne because the throne would be mine.”

Malik got to his feet, rage crossing his features. “You trickster!” He paced, stomping in the sand. “You are not even king of your own kind! Even if what you say is true, your father would rule. Not you.” He whirled back on Bakura who sat patiently on the ground. “You are only a princeling!”

A fine white brow arched, Bakura’s words measured. “Never call me ‘princeling’ again.” He swiped sand from his shoulder. “My words are true. My father has sworn to retire to the Summerlands when Atem is no longer king. The dual responsibility of leading the Court and all the immortals would fall on my shoulders.” His eyes hardened. “And my brother and I would lose our father at the same time.” He sniffed derisively. “I care not for Atem’s wellbeing but it is an effective failsafe to keep my more rebellious tendencies in check.”

The other sunk to his knees before the fae. Several moments passed between them as Bakura examined his healing hand. “…I killed my father.” The only reaction Bakura gave was a flick of his eyes. “He tried to carve my wings from me as punishment for disobeying him. My rebelliousness led to me murdering my father. I have no other family.”

“If he tried to cut your wings away, he deserved death.” Malik tossed his head and glared off into the shadows, the Unseelie’s words wedging into his heart. “They’re a terrible beauty. The mortals must piss themselves in fear when they see you.” Bakura cupped Malik’s cheek, directing his gaze back. “Don’t do this thing. I have no desire to rule yet. More than that? I don’t think I could bear to see you cut down.”

Malik sighed as the tension drained from him, leaning into Bakura’s hand. “What are you doing to me?”

Bakura drew Malik nearer, kissing him. “I believe the humans call it falling in love.”

 

* * *

 

“He’s okay?” Ryou sat heavily on a chair in their rooms. His damp hair was gathered atop his head, a silver silk robe slipping from his shoulder. Relief drained the worry from his face. Gadai stood behind him and rubbed his exposed skin, wearing nothing more than a towel around his hips. “He’s okay. Do you think Malik will bring him back?” 

The ghoul remained where he’d shifted out of his canine form on the floor. “He will. Even if the other does not return himself, he won’t keep your brother from you.” He regarded Gadai before returning his attention to Ryou. “They were pleasuring each other.”

Gadai chuckled. “Of course they were. It’s Bakura.” He squeezed Ryou’s shoulder, a faint smile on the other’s face. “See? If he’s fucking, he’s fine.” Ryou patted Gadai’s hand. “You watched,” the far darrig teased.

“I didn’t know what they were doing. I had never seen that act before.” He felt no shame in admitting it. The truth was the truth and he wouldn’t hide from it.

Ryou’s gaze turned curious. “What were they doing?”

The nameless one licked his lips slowly. “I would rather show you.”

Gadai tensed, but Ryou leaned back into the chair, looking every inch the royal scion he was. “Show me then.”

 

* * *

 

Yugi stirred, sticky and happily sore. Atem snored next to him. They were tangled in the bedding and it took the pixie a few moments to get free, slipping to the basin and cleaning himself off. He tugged his dirty tunic over his head and curled on the windowsill. Life wasn’t at all what he expected but Yugi was completely happy.

He and his grandfather had been wanderers until they came to Atem’s realm. The harsh Northern winter had driven them to beg for shelter with the elves. To their surprise, it was granted, only for Yugi to find his assigned chambers were actually the king’s. He still blushed to remember his first awkward times with Atem, but the king was patient with his new pet and before long, Yugi was favored among all his other lovers.

The pixie glanced at Atem. He sprawled on the bed, a sheet covering his hips. A devious look lit Yugi’s eyes. He had seen more than just the furious djinni. A little pixie could sneak around lovers, especially when their moans covered his footsteps. He pressed his fingers to his mouth to stifle his giggle and snuck back to the bed. The sheet fell away as he fit himself between Atem’s legs. He blew air over his inner thighs, making the king open wider until Yugi could see his hole. He worked spit into his mouth until his tongue was slippery and bent his head down, eyes closing as he licked over Atem’s hole.

Atem jerked awake at the first lick to find multicolor spikes between his legs. “Yugi?” The pixie didn’t answer, slipping his tongue over his hole again and swirling it around the ring of muscle. The elf fisted the bedding, unconsciously spreading himself wider. Yugi pressed his lips against his sensitive skin and hummed in approval, making Atem groan. His dick twitched and hardened against his hip. A series of quick flicks of his pet’s tongue had Atem grabbing at his hair. When Yugi darted his tongue into the opening, Atem held him there, grinding against his mouth. “Yugi…”

His own dick was trapped under him and Yugi rutted against the bed. Atem’s reactions were better than he expected and Yugi stuck his tongue out farther, licking into his king’s body. He wanted to add his fingers, but didn’t dare, hand grasping at Atem’s cock instead and stroking. Atem rolled his hips onto Yugi’s tongue and up into his hand, panting with the effort. His pet, his talented lovely brilliant pet, was bringing him to the edge with barely any effort. He pulled on the pixie’s hair, gasping, enough warning for Yugi to scramble up his body and close his mouth over his cockhead, swallowing Atem’s warm cum.

Yugi pulled away, licking his mouth clean, heat coloring his cheeks. A telltale wetness spread across the sheets, sticking to Atem’s thighs. The king laughed, opening his arms and pulling Yugi to his chest. “The sheets need to be laundered anyway. Let us go clean ourselves off while they’re changed.”

 

* * *

 

The younger Unseelie prince was going to die. He was going to fade away, not even the Summerlands capable to calling him home, from the euphoria rushing through his body. He perched on Gadai’s lap, the far darrig’s thick cock buried in his ass, and bounced on his thighs. Each rebound of the far darrig’s muscled legs drove the fae’s dick deeper into the ghoul’s eager throat, his tongue following Ryou’s shaft as he pulled away and dropped back onto Gadai. The far darrig grunted in his ear. For all his teasing, he obviously also liked to watch, chin perched on Ryou’s shoulder to see the ghoul sucking him off. 

Gadai’s fingers tightened on Ryou’s hip. “Won’t last like this,” he warned.

“Me, me either!” Ryou cried out, writhing on Gadai, grasping at his lover’s hair as he swallowed his cock to the base, his throat squeezing around the head. “Ah, ah!” His muscles tightened around Gadai who bucked up, cursing as he poured into Ryou. The warmth flooding into him pushed him over the edge, cum filling the ghoul’s mouth.

The djinni pulled off, holding the taste on his tongue before swallowing thoughtfully. Ryou and Gadai watched him with blown wide eyes. Finally he shrugged. “Better than the apple.” Ryou giggled, tugging him up and changing their positions, pulling Gadai to the floor with him.

“Let us show you how it feels,” the prince purred.

The ghoul’s eyes narrowed, pointing his finger at Gadai. “Not him.”

Gadai groaned, too spent to care. “Why do you fuckers have a problem with me?!”

“Both of us.” Ryou nuzzled the djinni’s thigh. “Please, Scáth…”

“What did you call me?” He caught Ryou’s chin and lifted his head. “Scáth.”

“It means shadow. It seemed fitting for you and your other form, if you’ll take it.” His eyes didn’t waver, knowing how bold it was to name an immortal. Gadai leaned against his side, head on Ryou’s shoulder, waiting, of half a mind to doze off. The ghoul, Scáth, licked his lips and spread his knees wider, nodding. Ryou beamed, kissing up his inner thigh. Gadai groused but mirrored the movement until they both reached Scáth’s shaft and mouthed their way to the head, tongues meeting and curling over it, half kissing each other and half licking away the beads of wetness there.

The djinni moaned, skin slick and hot, Ryou sucking on his tip while Gadai licked at his shaft and balls. Ryou’s ass had been the best thing he ever felt, but this new sensation was very close. His fingers carded into their hair, petting them as they worked on him. Ryou opened his throat, taking him as deeply as he could. Gadai circled his balls with his tongue and sucked them into his mouth. Scáth choked, making Ryou lifted his head, concerned, receiving hot jism across his face for his worries. Gadai and Scáth eyed his painted face hungrily, manhandling the fae between them to lick him clean.

They were tangled together, grabbing at each other, licking away the taste of their spend, when the bedroom door opened, Bakura and Malik stepping into the room.

“Oh, I see.” Bakura smirked at the scene before them. “So fucking worried about me that you were fucking.”

“Bakura!” Ryou shouted for joy, disentangling himself and rushing to him. Bakura’s back hit the door with an audible thud, Ryou’s arms locked around his neck, his lips pressed desperately to Bakura’s. Malik regarded them with a raised brow while Gadai’s continued attentions to Scáth’s throat were the only thing keeping him on the bed. Ryou kissed his brother enthusiastically, lifting to his toes when Bakura squeezed his ass, not hearing the ghoul’s warning growl.

It was Malik who defused the situation before tensions arose, clearing his throat loudly. “Now that the happy reunion has occurred, perhaps we should all discuss what’s going on.” He picked a pear off a tray and lounged in one of the chairs, legs over the arm as he took a bite. Bakura and Ryou separated slowly, Ryou stealing kisses and checking Bakura’s hand, kissing that as well. The other djinni stood, shaking off Gadai, looking ready to pull Ryou away by force. A foot against his hip stopped him. “You might as well learn to share. You’ll find they’ll come back to you if you don’t force them to stay.” The ghoul growled and the ifrit shrugged, unafraid. “I’m trying to help you. They are fae. You cannot control their nature, but you can appreciate it.”

Ryou cupped Scáth’s face, his other hand linked with Bakura’s. “He’s right. If you can share me, I’ll do everything to make you happy. If you don’t, you’ll never have me again.”

“Some choice,” the ghoul growled.

“But that’s the choice you have,” Gadai added, lazing on the bed still. “I think it’s rather generous for the most beautiful Court prince in an age to offer it at all.”

“Hey, rat! I’m standing right here!” Bakura glared at Gadai who only laughed. The fae huffed, letting Ryou slip away to sooth the ghoul’s irritation. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I at least was able to convince this crazy fucker to drop his plan.” Malik grinned sharply, not objecting to the term. “Where did you put the dagger?”

Gadai and Ryou exchanged a look, their silent conversation electing the far darrig to retrieve the blade from his trunks. “Figured we didn’t need one of you accidentally grabbing it.” He tested the balance on his finger, not bothering to hand it to Bakura. “What do you intend to do with it?”

Before Malik could answer, Scáth spoke. “I’ll return it to our homeland. I’m sure it was stolen from the dead. I can put it back.” His amethyst eyes fell to the ifrit. “Let me take it home.” They stared at each other for a long time until Malik inclined his head. Gadai handed the iron blade to the ghoul, who slipped it into his arm, skin healing back over it.

“Okay, that is fucking creepy and amazing and I will never unsee that.” Bakura shook his head, Ryou prodding at the arm in wonder. “Have we missed the final gathering today? Not that I would mind, but Father would be disappointed if we didn’t thank our host.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten.” Ryou looked down at himself and slid his eyes to Scáth’s and Gadai’s likewise naked bodies. “We should bathe and make ourselves presentable.” He pulled on the ghoul’s arm, leading him to the bathing room, whispering.

The far darrig sighed as he watched them go. “Don’t suppose I should join them, hm?” Bakura chuckled, sitting on the arm of Malik’s chair. “Right. Whore’s bath for me then.”

 

* * *

 

Atem clapped his hands, signaling for silence throughout his throne chamber. The djinn, fae, and far darrig had all arrived together, standing in a group and talking amongst themselves. It was to have been the scene of Malik’s scheme, but with Bakura blushing so prettily at the filthy words he whispered, Malik had no head for plotting. “And finally, we come to perhaps the most favorite part of our gathering!” The elf king’s voice echoed in the stone room. “At this time, we recognize throughout all the immortal races any bonds created here. Come forward and receive my blessing.” 

As planned, Yugi stepped forward from behind the dais, a smaller diadem matching Atem’s across his forehead. The assembled cheered to have the king acknowledge and elevate a favored lover. They made an attractive pair and Ryou shouted just as loudly as Atem’s own people to celebrate. Atem raised his hand, calming the crowd, though he and Yugi were still beaming. “Are there any others?”

A few couples came forward, calling their names and lineage, and Atem as high king of the long-lived races approved their joining which no other could speak against. A hush spread through the crowd when no one else came to the throne and Atem seemed about the decree the gathering ended. With his fingers threaded into Scáth’s, Ryou strode forward, ignoring Bakura’s reprimanding hissing.

“I, Prince Ryou of the Unseelie Court of the Western Isles, second in line for my father’s throne, third in line for rule over all immortal beings, declare my bond to Scáth of the Southern djinn.”

Ryou stood proud beside his lover as the whispers started. The Unseelies did not bind themselves even to other fae not of the Court. Certainly not to another race. If they deigned to commit themselves at all, which no one present could remember happening. Fuck them all, Ryou thought. Scáth squeezed his hand and grinned ferally, never needing the approval of others. Atem glanced to Bakura who looked ready to haul Ryou out physically and Malik and Gadai who held him back, trying to reason with him in hushed tones. Ryou didn’t turn his head, fearing his heart would break. As they had said, there was a choice to be made and Ryou would always choose his djinn lover.

“Is this truly what you wish, Prince Ryou? Once granted, only death can break this bond.”

“It is.”

“And you, Scáth?”

“Yes.”

Atem sighed, only slightly relieved that Bakura had calmed down. Yet Ryou was royal in his own right, of age, and free to make his own decision. Atem could find no reason to withhold his blessing. “Then as your High King, you are so bound to each other. May your lives be happy ones.”

 

* * *

 

Bakura was still angry enough to spit nails as Ryou loaded his bag, smaller than when he’d arrived, onto the back of a horse. “You can’t do this. You can’t go off with him. Father will kill me if you don’t come back to Court with me.” 

“Stop being dramatic.” Ryou patted the horse and turned to his brother, taking his hands. “We know I’m not going to rule. I’m not made for it. There’s no reason for me to live in your shadow when I can chase my own happiness.” He tugged Bakura closer, arms looping around him. “It doesn’t mean I won’t miss you or that I’ll forget you. We’ll come visit. I swear it.”

The older prince pouted as Ryou kissed over his face. “Home will be so empty without you.”

“Malik won’t…?” Bakura closed his eyes and didn’t answer and Ryou’s heart hurt for him. “Keep Gadai with you. Father will love his stories and it will keep Gadai out of trouble.” His brother nodded, pressing their mouths together for a long kiss.

It was Gadai who touched Bakura’s shoulder, breaking the moment. “They need to go.” He helped Ryou up onto the horse in front of Scáth, standing with Bakura as Ryou spurred the horse forward, unable to prolong their goodbye.

Bakura watched until he could see nothing more than the glow of Ryou’s hair in the twilight. Gadai stretched and looked over his shoulder. “Think I’ll go check on our horses. We’ll want to be leaving soon ourselves.” He nodded at Malik as he went, leaving the two lovers alone.

“I’m not sure I can take any more goodbyes right now,” Bakura said without turning.

Malik stood beside him. “Then let’s agree that this isn’t goodbye. This is a temporary separation until we are free to travel to one another again.” Bakura’s laugh cracked. “You will come to me, Bakura. As I will come to you.” He pivoted to face the fae, bumping their foreheads together. “And perhaps one day, we won’t have to part.”

“But not today.” Bakura clung to Malik’s wrists, what remained of his heart after Ryou’s leaving aching anew.

“No.” Malik kissed Bakura tenderly. “Not today.” Bakura pressed into the kiss, sighing when Malik’s tongue thrust into his mouth as though they could tattoo the essence of each other on their senses. Malik broke away first because if he didn’t, he never would. “Come for me soon, Bakura.” And trusting the prince to do what Malik said, the fire consumed him, standing in his true form before disappearing in smoke on the breeze.

A soft shuffling alerted the fae that Gadai had returned with their mounts. “Prince?” The far darrig held the reins out to Bakura. “Let’s go home.”


	2. Epilogue

Time changes even the immortals. They grow and mature, more assured in themselves and their positions. Even when those roles change too.

Over the centuries since their first parting, Malik and Bakura joined and parted many times. They traveled to each other's homelands. Bakura complained of the sand that stuck to his hair. Malik insisted he would freeze to death and never visited Bakura in the winter again. Yet, they always found peace in each other's arms. Where they were never mattered as much as simply being together while they could.

Ryou and Scáth traveled to places Bakura had not even read of, returning frequently to their homelands. Ryou collected stories of other long-lived races, writing letters to his friends as often as he was able. He grew a little wilder and Scáth became a bit tamer and all who saw them said there never was a better match.

Not all their years were so carefree. Bakura and Gadai went to war and came back heroes, victorious in the fifty years long Troll Wars. Gadai relished telling stories of their battles, embellishing how he'd received the scar on his cheek until Bakura would remind everyone Gadai had had that scar for ages.

Yet not everyone returned after the Wars. King Atem fell in battle. The races mourned and honored their once king. Ryou attended the ceremonies with Scáth to represent the Unseelie Court on his way home. Yugi left with them, returning back to the pixies where they revered him almost as high as Atem had been. Together, Bakura and Ryou prepared their father for the Summerlands. They mourned this king too, the brothers taking refuge in each other’s arms as his ship faded over the horizon.

The night before Bakura’s coronation, Ryou collapsed on Scáth’s chest, spent and sated. “Do you think he’ll come?”

The ghoul gave his mate a loving smile. “He’ll come.”

Bakura’s coronation was the most spectacular, extravagant event seen since the first king of the immortals was crowned. The Unseelie Court glittered in all their finery under the lights. Bakura sat upon the throne, black leather boots polished to a shine, black velvet breeches and a blood red shirt visible under a black long coat. His brother had taken pains with his hair, the braid resting perfectly over his shoulder, the ends falling to his waist. He appeared every inch the dark king and the fae loved him for it.

Ryou stood to the right of the throne, his own hair swept up away from his face, the open throat of his diamond white tunic revealing the line of his neck and the bitemarks left by Scáth the night before. His steel gray velvet breeches were complemented by the dark green belt wrapped around his waist, some strange leather unknown to the Court. Crocodile, he called it, a gift from Scáth on their first visit to the Southern lands.

At the foot of the throne, Gadai and Scáth stood as honor guard. After much cajoling, Ryou had convinced Gadai to accept a new red cloak, this one woven of fine silk, covering his garb of browns and creams. Scáth had refused anything new, save for a royal purple cloak, sewn by Ryou himself. His garb, while mostly still rags, was at least clean. Bakura had insisted on that at least since the ghoul refused to wear boots.

The assembled swore the loyalty to their new king and Ryou placed a crown forged of hematite and set with obsidian, onyx, and diamonds on Bakura’s brow. “Glory to King Bakura, crowned Lord of our most beautiful Court, leader of all immortal creatures!” Ryou’s voice rang out proudly over the throng, their voices echoing his adulation.

A sudden flash of smoke and fire filled the center of the throne hall, celebrants crying out and recoiling from the heat. Bakura rose smoothly to his feet, eyes only on the space where the smoke was clearing, Ryou grinning widely.

Malik appeared in the center of the hall, his wings and horns falling away like ash. He was dressed in finery to rival Bakura’s own, reds and oranges in loose linen fabrics of the Southern lands. His golden adornments glinted in the light, arms, wrists, waist, and throat bound in yellow metal, earlobes dripping with it. Ryou retrieved something from Gadai and pressed it into his brother’s hand, standing aside to let him descend the throne. Bakura’s steps were steady, crowned head high as he crossed the room to Malik though his heart pounded.

The new king stopped before Malik, holding a circlet of gold between them. The ifrit lowered his head, both in deference to the fae and to accept the gift, and Bakura placed the band over his hair. A chorus of shouts sounded as Malik lifted his head, violet eyes staring into Bakura's crimson ones, the Court applauding the show, the pretty newcomer, and their beautiful king. Ryou's, Scáth's, and Gadai's rose above the din, proclaiming glory to King Bakura and glory to his king consort, Malik of the Djinn.

Threading their fingers together, Malik's and Bakura's heads fell easily into one another, centuries of habit ingrained in their bodies, the smiles they wore brighter than the rising sun. As the roar of the people continued around them, they only knew each other, Malik’s voice barely a breath between them.

“I love these things.”


End file.
